


Show Me

by Karis_Artemisia_Judith



Series: Show Me [1]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, Kristanna smut, Smut, also yelling about forks, and a bunch of talking, and then also smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karis_Artemisia_Judith/pseuds/Karis_Artemisia_Judith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or: The Questionable Relevance of Forks</p><p>"You say all those nobles would fight for my hand, but you’re wrong. They wouldn’t be fighting for me. None of them wants me. They want the princess. None of them want just Anna. None of them would carry me down a mountain, or run across the fjord, or, or sing stupid songs to me or hold me the way you do or make me feel the way you do. I love you,” she said fiercely.</p><p> ”Anna—” he had to turn his face away from her. “You can’t.”</p><p>"Well I do! I don’t want to marry anyone but you! I don’t want to have children with anyone but you! I don’t want—I don’t want to be touched by anyone but you.”</p><p> </p><p>When Kristoff announces that he's withdrawing his suit from Anna, the princess has a thing or two to say about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me

Anna tapped Elsa on the arm lightly, making her sister start. Elsa had been frowning, so lost in thought that she had stopped halfway down the staircase, but when Anna's presence finally registered the frown had melted into a look of worried concern.

"Elsa, what's wrong? You've been standing there for ages, and I said your name twice. Did something happen?"

The queen folded her hands together, unfolded them to lay one on the banister, then laced her fingers together in front of her, thumbs continuing to fidget anxiously while Anna watched, frowning. Something  _was_  wrong. 

"Anna…it's Kristoff."

" _What_?" Anna's heart stopped in her chest. "What happened? Is he hurt? Did—"

Elsa hastily caught her hands and held them. "No, no, it's not that. He's not hurt." She paused, letting Anna take several deep breaths and squeezing her hands gently before going on. "It's…he came to see me. He offered to resign from his position as ice master."

"He…what?" 

"That wasn't all." Elsa bit her lip, unconsciously mimicking her sister. Little habits like that were getting mixed up between them, now that they were spending more and more of their time together. "Anna…" Her hands tightened. "Anna, he came to tell me that he formally withdraws his suit."

Anna could only stare. "His  _what_?"

"His suit. That he withdraws his suit…from you. He said…he said he thought it wasn't appropriate, and that he wouldn't court you anymore. He seems to think that it's for the best."

" _For the best_? So he's just…he's just  _leaving_?"

"Well, he's still upstairs in the west study now, I didn't accept his resignation, I said I wanted to consult the staff. And I wanted to tell you…"

"Upstairs?" Anna let go of her sister's soothing grip and started up with alarmingly forceful steps.

"Anna!"

She paused, looking back. "I have to go talk to Kristoff. I have to."

"I know," Elsa said. She studied Anna's face and winced slightly. "Go talk to him. I'll be in the library if you need me. But…just try not to break anything."  
  


By the time Anna got up the two flights of stairs, she was furious. She was also terrified, but she focused on the fury. She crashed through the door of the small study, her eyes blazing. "You can't leave!" she snapped. She was panting and flushed, and she could feel her hair slipping from the knot at the back of her head to straggle down her neck. 

The object of her anger had been standing by the window, his broad shoulders slumped and his blonde head bowed wearily, but she only caught a glimpse of that stance before Kristoff jerked upright, turning sharply around as she burst into the room. His jaw clenched as he looked at her. He just stared at her, his lips a hard line. He didn't say anything.

"Elsa said—she said  _you_  said—you—" Anna's hands curled into fists as she stared up at him. He looked down, not meeting her eyes. Her sister's parting instructions were the only reason that Anna wasn't snatching up the vase that stood in a narrow table by the door and hurling it at Kristoff's head. It was an ugly vase, and he had a thick skull, after all. And it would have made him look at her. Instead, with Elsa's other words echoing through her mind ( _…it wasn't appropriate. It's for the best_ ) Anna could only clench her fingers in the fabric of her skirt to keep them away from the vase and glare at him with eyes that felt treacherously glazed with tears.

"Were you even going to say goodbye?" she asked, her voice thick with anger and a trembling hurt that she couldn't suppress. At least the question made him flinch, breaking the stiff expression on his face.

"I…Anna…" He took a short, sharp breath. "Anna, I should go."

"No!" Anna shoved the door shut and planted herself in front of it, her arms spread out. "You can't leave. You have to tell me what this means. Why are you doing this? What did I do wrong?" She had advanced on him with every word until she had to tilt her head back to look up at him, her hands pressed to his chest. Kristoff gripped her elbows and pushed her back carefully.

"Anna, this isn't like that. It's not you."

"Then what is it?" she demanded. "What do I do to fix it?"

"Nothing, Anna," he said. "It's me. It's that I—I can't do this. Be this. I can't be the person that you need."

"I need _you_."

He laughed, a harsh, hard little bark that made her wince, but he wasn't looking at her. He stared off to one side, where an old fashioned tapestry hung on the wall. It had been woven by some former queen or other, and showed a progression of rather stylized crowned figures laid out in rows. Anna had never particularly cared for it, but the look in Kristoff's eyes made her hate it, suddenly and intensely.

"You don’t need me, Anna," he said finally. "You need…someone else. Someone different."

"How do you know?" she asked, bristling. "Why do you get to be the expert on what I need? What did you think I meant when I asked you to stay? What do you think I meant when I kissed you? Do you think I'm the kind of person who is going to kiss you—to let _you_ kiss _me_ —and then just forget about you and marry someone else? I'm not—" she stopped abruptly, her face going pale. She pressed herself against the door, her arms curling around her stomach. It was roiling, and she tasted acid at the back of her mouth, as if she might be sick. "You do think that, don't you?" she whispered. "And why not? That's what I've done before, isn't it?"

"Anna, _no_." His hands wavered in the air for a moment, half stretched out to her before he pulled them back and pressed them down to his sides, fists clenched.  "It's not like that. It isn't you, Anna, there's nothing wrong with _you_. You're perfect. But you're a _princess_ , and I'm…"

"You're an _idiot_." The muttered words almost made him smile, and Anna stepped toward him again.  "Don't leave me."

His face went still, shutting her out once more. "I have to."

" _Why_? I thought you," her voice broke dangerously and she looked down. "I thought you cared for me."

The soft, aching words were too much for Kristoff and he reached for her, his big hands holding her shoulders gently. "I do care for you, Anna," he said quietly. "That's why I want better for you."

She stared up at him. "Better?" she said incredulously. " _Better_? Just who do you think is going to be better for me than you?"

"Practically anyone!" He stepped back and shoved a hand through his hair, then wiped it down his face, taking a resolute breath. "Anna, I can't do…this." Kristoff waved around vaguely. "I can't be what you need," he repeated finally.

"And just what is it that you think I need?" she demanded.

"Someone who understands your world," he said. "Someone who can be a part of it, who won't be an embarrassment to you. Someone who _doesn't_ smell like reindeer. Someone who knows how to belong here. Someone…someone you can marry who can give you children who will belong here. There are dozens of noblemen downstairs right now who would fight for your hand, and they all know which forks to use." He folded his arms over his chest, not looking at her.

" _Forks_?" Anna glared at him. "Do you really think I _care_ about _forks_?"

"You should!" he said roughly. "Everyone else does!"

"Well I _don't_ , and I am a _princess_. I outrank _all_ of them. If I say forks don't matter then they _don't matter_. You don't get to just decide that I'm better off without you and shut me out," she said, blinking hard to stop angry tears from welling up. "I've dealt with that before, remember? It _didn't work_. It didn't make me _safe_. It didn't make me _happy_. It didn't make me _better_. It just made me _lonely_. And lost. And so vulnerable that I—"

"Anna, please don't—" His attempt to keep his arms firmly folded failed, one of his hands stretching out helplessly toward her face. "Please don't cry. I didn't want to hurt you. I just—you just have to forget about me. It will be like this never happened."

"It will not!" Anna pushed his hand away, scrubbing roughly at her damp cheeks with her own fingers. "I'm not crying. I'm just _angry_. You think you can just…just wander off, and I'll forget you?  Are _you_ going to forget?" she asked. "Did you just wake up today and realize that you're…that you're tired of me and nothing that happened between us matters?"

"Anna—"

"You think that anything that's happened will ever go away? That I'll just forget falling into your arms? Or the way you carried me? Do you think I'm going to forget…to forget…." A shaking hand pressed to her chest. "I'm not going to forget," she whispered. "Not anything. Not ever. And I can't…Kristoff. I need you with me."

His hands had curled around her shoulders again, but he was shaking his head. "Anna—"

She shoved against his chest, hard, and the unexpected blow knocked him off balance. He stumbled backwards, reflexively catching at Anna's waist, and sat down hard on the chaise behind him with Anna falling in a heap in his lap. He would have stood again immediately, would have set her away from him, but Anna took advantage of the moment to grip his collar. She glared at him, her chest heaving.

"You say all those nobles would fight for my hand, but you're wrong. They wouldn't be fighting for _me_. None of them wants _me_. They want the _princess_. None of them want just _Anna_. None of them would carry me down a mountain, or run across the fjord, or, or sing stupid songs to me or hold me the way you do or make me _feel_ the way _you_ do. I love _you_ ," she said fiercely.

 "Anna—" he had to turn his face away from her. "You _can't_."

"Well I do! I don’t want to marry anyone but _you_! I don’t want to have children with anyone but _you_! I don’t want—I don’t want to be _touched_ by anyone but _you_."

His hands tightened convulsively around her waist. "Wh-what?"

"I want…." The anger was draining out of her, leaving behind nothing but longing, longing to be reassured by his hands, by his kiss, by his touch. She wanted to show him how much she needed him to stay—and if he insisted on leaving she wanted certain memories from him first.

She leaned into him, her hands pressed flat to his chest, so close that her lips brushed the skin behind his ear as she whispered. "I want—I only want to be touched by you." Her attempt at a sultry worldliness was ruined by the way her breath hitched, making her words stammer, and by the violent blush that spread over her cheeks. " _Please_." She pressed her pink face into his shoulder, curled her fingers to grip the front of his shirt. " _Please_. I want you to be the one who touches me."

Anna felt him take a deep, shuddering breath. Then one of his hands moved from her waist, sliding up the curve of her spine to cup the back of her head, his fingers digging deeply into her hair and using it to bring her mouth to his. The kiss was something new, something hard and demanding, and he didn’t pull back until their breathing was ragged. He rested his forehead against hers.

"Where?" His lips brushed over hers, the soft touch a contrast to the roughness edging his voice.

"Huh?"

 "Where, exactly," he said against her mouth, "do you want me to touch you?"

"Oh. Um," Anna let out a tiny, gasping laugh, shrugging helplessly. "I don't know. I—" She bit her lip and his arm tightened, pressing her closer to him. "Everywhere," she whispered.

He groaned deep in this throat and then he was kissing her again, his tongue caressing the bite mark on her lip before it pressed in to stroke against hers. His free hand stroked down her back, over the curve of her buttocks, over her side. Anna made an impatient sound and caught his hand in hers, drawing it up to press it to her chest and hold it there. Kristoff's fingers curved over her, stroking the softness above the stiff edge of her corset, and then his hands went down to grip her thighs through her skirts, swinging her around to lay her against the sloped back of the chaise. Before she could protest he was kissing her again, and his palms had slid up her ribs to her bosom, his thumbs dipping under the fabric of her bodice to stroke over the tops of her breasts through her shirt.

Anna began to fumble one-handed at the silver clasp at her collar, at the hidden hooks and eyes below it. Her other hand had gotten tangled in Kristoff's hair as his lips moved from hers to nuzzle greedily against the skin her clumsy unfastening was too-slowly exposing. Then he stopped, his hands leaving her to rest on either side of her shoulders as he lifted his head.

"Anna—"

"Mm?" She began to tug at the collar of his shirt, and he caught her hand, holding it in his.

"You want this? Right now?"

"Mmhm."

"Anna, are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes on his mouth, and tried to pull him back down to her, but he resisted.

"Anna, look at me." She did, and the intensity in his eyes made her heart turn over. He laid her hand down deliberately, shifting back so that he wasn't touching her at all. "Anna, I need you to be sure."

She nodded, then realized that wasn't enough for him. "I'm sure. Kristoff, I'm _sure_." Anna held out her hands to him. "Touch me."

Kristoff took her hands in both of his, kissing her knuckles and holding them to his chest for a moment. Then he dropped them and stood, stumbling toward the door.

"Kristoff!"

Her alarmed cry made him turn, and Anna realized what he was doing. He wasn't leaving. His hand was on the key that had been left in the door, and his eyes were very dark as he looked back at her. "Anna. You're sure?"

" _Yes_."

The key turned with a loud, solid, and very definite _clunk_.

Anna suddenly felt very small as Kristoff came back to her, looming over her. It made her mouth go dry. But when he sat beside her his eyes were warm and tender and _safe_. She reached out for him and he leaned over her, his hands stroking lightly over her arms, her shoulders, before cupping gently around her head and lifting her up to his kiss. This was one of his gentle kisses, safe and familiar, and Anna felt something relax in her. Her hands curled around his neck, fingers stroking into the soft hair at his nape.

Kristoff drew back from the kiss, just far enough to look into her face, and let one of his hands trail lightly from her cheek to her jaw, down her neck, to the expanse of skin bared by her open shirt. It was nothing he hadn't seen before—her evening gowns showed more shoulder and bosom than this by far—but as he carefully pushed the fabric of her blouse aside, spreading it apart, Anna felt more exposed than she ever had in her life. He pressed his hand to her chest, his palm hot against her, just above the swell of her breast.

"If you stop being sure—" he began, and Anna shook her head. He pressed a finger over her lips, silencing her denial. " _If_ you stop being sure," he repeated. "If you ever stop being sure, if you—if something scares you—tell me, Anna. If you want me to stop—"

"I want you to _start_ ," she groaned. Kristoff chuckled as she gripped his hair and pulled his mouth to hers, his kiss this time fierce and deep, leaving her gasping.

"Okay," he said, pulling back to look at her with dark, hooded eyes. His hands stroked over her, a firm touch running down her sides to her hips and back up. "Okay."

He turned his attention to the fastenings of her bodice, making quick work of the row of hooks that had held it closed. She sat up so that he could push it back off her shoulders and let it drop to the ground. He ran curious fingers along the waistband of her skirt, found the closure at the side and unfastened it, did the same for the petticoat beneath. Kristoff glanced up at her face as if for permission, and her look must have given it to him because he slid his hands over her hips, pushing the skirts down and off. Those big hands smoothed back up her legs and Anna shivered hard. He paused to kiss her, gentle and reassuring, before he began to tug her shirt off of her.

It got stuck, trapping Anna's arms over her head. "The cuffs," she said.

"Huh?" Kristoff blinked away the speculative expression that had been in his eyes. "Cuffs?"

"The shirt cuffs, we didn't unbutton—" Anna began to laugh. "Help?" she asked, smiling at him.

He pulled the shirt back down, fumbled with the sleeves to free her, and then tugged at the shirt again. This time it came free and was thrown to the floor. Kristoff ran his eyes over her, taking in the dainty embroidery that curled over her corset, the lacy trim on her shift and drawers.

"You have to show me how to get you out of this," he muttered. "I'll rip something."

"That would be okay," Anna said, then blushed when he raised his eyebrows at her and she realized she'd said it aloud. "I mean—um…" She gave up and reached to press open the hooks that ran down the stiff front of her corset, suddenly very glad that she wasn't wearing one that only laced at the back. It would have taken far too long to get out of without experienced help. Maybe she should have Kristoff practice…she almost laughed at the thought, except that Kristoff was spreading her current corset open, and stroking his hand over ribs that were now covered only by a thin cotton shift.

Anna moaned as his strokes moved upward, burning even through the fabric as his hands curved over her breasts, stroking and squeezing lightly, so lightly. She arched her back to press herself more firmly into his touch. He bent to press his lips to her shoulder, drawing a line of kisses along the lacy edge of her shift. Anna's hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt—which reminded her of something. She tugged at it.

"Take this off. I want to be able to see you too."

He leaned back and drew the shirt over his head, and her eyes widened as she took him in. Why did he seem even bigger without the shirt? She reached out to run her hands over his shoulders as if to verify their breadth, trailed her fingers down over his chest to his ribs.

"Hey!" He flinched back from the touch, catching her hands.

A delighted smile spread over Anna's face. "Are you… _ticklish_?"

"No," he said gruffly, and cut off any further comments by kissing her mouth, then kissing her breast through the thin fabric of her shift. His lips brushed over her nipple and she sighed, the question of ticklishness not forgotten, but set aside for another moment. She had better things to focus on as Kristoff tentatively grazed his teeth over her, his breath hot even through the cotton.

Anna's hands stroked over his shoulders, his arms, tracing down his back. Then, feeling bold, she slid her hand down his side, around his hip, to curve over the hard swelling she found between his legs.

Kristoff gasped, groaning against her chest, and his hips thrust hard against her hand. But then he reached down to catch her wrist. He gently pulled her hand away. "No, Anna—not right now. Not this time."

Anna groaned. "But I _want_ you." She squirmed against his grip. "I want _all_ of you."

" _Anna_." She stilled as he bent over her, pressing his forehead to hers. "Anna, you’re going to be the death of me."

"Why?"

"Because," he punctuated each of his words with kisses on her jaw, her neck, "I need… _all_ …of my self-control." Her hand had begun wandering again and she huffed with irritation when he caught her wrist and pinned it to the chaise.

Anna frowned up at him, trying to understand what was wrong. "Is there something wrong that I…do you not want…do you not want me…"

His thumb stroked her wrist. "Anna, it's not that I don't want that, or want _you_. But when we—if we—if that happens, between us, it needs to be somewhere different. And some moment when we have time. I don't…I don't want to hurt you."

"Won't it hurt anyway?"

"I don't know for sure, but…I don't think so. I've…heard people talk. About…things.  I don't think it has to hurt. I don't want it to." He smoothed the hair back her face. "I never want to hurt you. But it would take time, which we don't have. And…" Kristoff scratched the back of his head, looking away from her. "I haven't done this before, Anna."

"Really? I thought…I thought that men usually…" She shrugged helplessly, the patchy education that she'd gotten from eavesdropping on maids failing her. "Why not? I thought men had, um…urges."

He blushed. "There's…ways to deal with that. And there wasn't anyone that…"

Anna pushed herself up on her elbows, running her eyes over his shoulders. "If you try to tell me that there wasn't anyone who wanted all this—" She gestured at him, all fluid muscle and golden skin, but Kristoff snorted.

"Not really, but thanks. What I was saying was that…there wasn't anyone I wanted to…be with. There wasn't anyone I trusted. "

"Oh." She sank back against the cushion, staring up at him. "Do you trust me?"

He leaned over her, kissing her nose. "I trust you. But do you trust me?"

"Yes," she said, without hesitation. "With my life. With…with everything."

Kristoff kissed her mouth this time, hard and hot, but he drew away from her attempt to press her hips to his. "Anna—"

"I’m not afraid of you. Or of…of this."

"It's not just that, Anna."

"Then what is it?"

He coughed awkwardly, rubbing his hand over his face. "I don't know if I…um…judging from how I feel right now, Anna, if we…if I was…gods. If I were…if I were in you…" he stumbled over the words, clearing his throat again. "I'm not sure I would be able to keep myself together long enough to…to satisfy you." He scrunched his face up in a grimace and covered his eyes.

"We could try," she said, walking her fingertips up his arm to pull his hand down. "I wouldn't mind."

"Anna…" He shook his head.

"Then what are we…" Anna gestured clumsily at the two of them, half undressed and flushed with a mixture of nervous embarrassment and arousal. "What are we doing?"

He reached out to stroke his hand over her. "Touching," he said.

"But you…you're..um…" She glanced down eloquently.

He cleared his throat. "You don't need to worry about that."

"But I thought—I mean, I heard—overheard, really, that…um. Doesn’t it hurt you?"

"Not…exactly." Despite their current position, he kept blushing. "It’s uncomfortable, but it’s not going to kill me. Besides," he added, a smirk tilting his lips, "it’s not the first time I’ve had to control myself around you. I’ve had a lot of practice."

It was her turn to blush, a vivid red blush the spread from her cheeks down her chest. "Really?" The word came out almost as a squeak. "Why? I mean—what made you—what did I—"

Her stammer made him smile. "That. And this," he stroked his thumb over her flushed cheek. "It doesn’t take much. Your voice. Your blush. The way you laugh, that thing you do where you tuck your hair behind your ear…" his fingers brushed over the red strands to demonstrate. "The way you bite your lip. The way your hips move when you walk." He slid his hand down her waist and bent down to kiss her. "Everything about you."

"Oh. I didn’t…I didn’t know."

Kristoff shrugged. "I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to feel…I didn’t want you to think I expected something from you. Whatever happened, I wanted it to be because you wanted it, when you were ready. And then…"

"And then you decided that forks were an insurmountable barrier to our relationship," she said dryly. Seeing his abashed expression, Anna reached up to take his face in between her hands, drawing him down so she could kiss him. "I’m ready. I know what I want." One of her hands slipped down to rest against his stomach, although it went no farther. He put his hand over hers, holding it still.

"Anna…You asked me to touch you. So," he kissed her forehead, "let me touch _you_. Let me focus on pleasing you. Don’t," another kiss at the tip of her nose, " _distract_ me. This is about you." He nuzzled at her temple. "Besides, this isn’t the right time. Or place."

Anna followed his glance to the door, the hallway beyond where there might be footsteps at any moment, and suddenly blushed with understanding. "Okay," she said grudgingly, letting him draw her hand back up to his chest. "But…another time?"

"Another time," he promised. His fingertips brushed softly down her cheek. "If you still want…another time."

She nodded, and he laid his hands on her thighs, sliding them up, gathering her shift as he went. As he reached her upper ribs he paused, looking into her face. Anna lifted her arms helpfully and the shift came off. She forced herself to keep her hands over her head instead of folding her elbows over her chest. If she wanted him to touch her, she should probably let him look at her. She drew in a shuddery breath and looked up at his face.

Kristoff's jaw was slack, his eyes wide as her stared down at her. The blush that she'd been trying to control began spreading down her neck and she bit her lip. She didn't know if his dumbfounded expression was a good thing or a bad. Anna started to bring her arms down to cover herself after all, but then Kristoff laid his hand on her ribs. His fingers were trembling.

"Anna…you…you're…" He licked his lips, took a breath. "You're so beautiful, Anna."

She reached out for him, stroking her fingers down his arms, and he closed his eyes for a moment. "Show me?" he asked.

"What?"

"Show me…" He touched one of her hands, stroking it lightly. "Show me how to touch you."

She brought her hands to her chest hesitantly, biting her lip as she watched him watching her, his eyes dark and intent, his face serious. Her own familiar touch felt strange under his gaze. Strange, because it had been some time since she’d touched herself like this without imagining that it was _his_ touch, _his_ hands on her…and now his hands _were_ on her, slipping under hers, stroking her, mimicking the way she had kneaded the softness, the way she had pinched and rolled the stiff peaks.

Anna let her head fall back, pressing her lips together to contain the moan rising in her throat. Her fantasies had been nothing to this, her small fingers inadequate. His hands were so much larger than her own, so much warmer, his palms and fingers roughened with callouses that abraded her skin lightly in the most delicious way. Kristoff bent over her, his breath hot against her tingling skin, and pressed his lips to the upper curve of her breast lightly, questioningly.

"Please," Anna gasped. She had to press her knuckles against her mouth to contain her sharp whimper as his kisses found her nipple, drawing on it with his lips, his tongue. The heat of his mouth seemed to sink into her, spreading through her and making her burn. Both of her hands tangled helplessly in his hair, short nails scratching the back of his neck, and he let out a muffled groan against her, scraping oh so delicately with his teeth. It sent a hard jolt of pleasure through her, her hips bucking up in response. He lifted his head, despite her insistent grip on his hair.

"Anna—"

"Don’t stop," she said quickly. "I’m fine, I’m—mm—"

He obeyed immediately, bending to lavish attention on her other breast, but the thrust of her hips had caught his attention. His fingers slipped under the waistband of her drawers, stroking the skin beneath. "When you said everywhere…"

" _Everywhere_." Anna hastily tugged at the strings, fumbling ineffectually to push the undergarment down before Kristoff intervened and drew it over her legs for her. His hand, warm and broad, smoothed over the curve of her hip.

" _Anna_ ," he whispered, his voice rough. "Show me."

The way he said her name, harsh and caressing all at once, made her shiver. A warm ache had been growing in her, and she didn't need to ask this time what he wanted. One small hand slipped over her stomach, and Anna realized her fingers were trembling.

Kristoff saw it too—of course he did. He noticed everything. His hand came to rest over hers, halting it. "Anna—are you all right? Is this—"

"Yes." She put her other hand down, used it to pull his fingers up to her chest. " _Yes_. I'm okay."

He bent down to kiss her, the hand she'd pressed to her breast stroking gently, his other fingers twisting gently in her hair, but he leaned back when she gasped and moaned against his mouth. She'd taken advantage of the distraction to overcome her nerves and bring her fingers against herself. The sharp spark of pleasure was enough to prevent her from shying away when he looked at her. In the haze of sensation it felt natural to draw her knee up, to _show him_ , to open her body to him the same way she opened her heart. She wanted both to be his. She showed him the hard, sensitive button of her clit, suppressing a whine as her fingertip circled, then stroked her fingers down, slipping them inside and sighing.

His hands smoothed over her hips, the insides of her thighs, making her whimper, and then one hand was curved around her waist while the fingers of the other curved over her own, stroking as she had done, sliding into her heat. He moved slowly, carefully, but Anna rolled her hips up against the touch, driving it deeper into her. _Gods_ , his fingers were so much larger than hers, rubbing easily against the secret places that her smaller hands had to struggle to reach. Her head fell back as a throaty moan slipped from her lips. Anna clapped her hand over her mouth, remembering that anyone might walk down the hallway outside—they had to be quiet.

But it was _so hard_. She wanted to moan out loud, to scream as Kristoff's gentle touch became firmer, more confident as he studied her reactions, tailoring his movements to what made her whimper and keen. He matched the rocking of her hips, his fingers thrusting in and out of her in a steady rhythm as his thumb found the bundle of nerves above her entrance. And then he bent over her, ducking his head to bring his lips against her breasts again, repeating each of the things that had pleased her most until she was gasping for air, her body burning.

She pressed her hand ever harder to her mouth, biting down on the base of her thumb to muffle her cries. Kristoff paused, making Anna whimper and roll her hips against him, but when he gently tugged her hand away from her teeth she blinked the haze from her eyes, watching as he kissed the reddened skin. "You’ll leave a mark," he said huskily. 

He released her hand so that he could slide his under her, stroking up her spine until he cradled the back of her neck. The movement brought his body close over hers, supported above her on his elbow so that none of his weight rested on her, bodies barely touching. Anna sighed raggedly at the feeling of his heat against her but the exhalation turned into a cry as his fingers moved in her again, stroking and curling against her. He kissed her, smothering the sound, and when they were forced to separate for air Anna moved to clap her hand over her mouth again.

"Don’t." Kristoff gently lifted her head to press her face into his shoulder. "Bite me instead," he said, his lips brushing her ear. His fingers began to thrust in earnest, his thumb pressing and circling against her clit.

Anna’s teeth sank into his skin, her nails digging into his back and raking down his spine as his touch drove her towards a taut, shivering tension. She screamed against him when it broke, her body curling up towards his, hips rocking helplessly in time with the pulses that spread tingling through her body. He kept touching her gently, dragging out the climax in smaller, shuddering bursts, until her scream had faded into whimpering gasps and she finally reached down to touch his wrist, nudging it away from her over sensitive folds.

For a moment he held her close to him, his arm still curled around her shoulders, his lips pressing soft kisses against her hair, her temple. Then Kristoff leaned back from her, laying her down gently as she sagged, limp and still against the cushion except for her ragged breathing, her eyes closed. He reached out to smooth the sweat darkened hair back from her forehead.

"All right?" She nodded weakly, and he stroked his knuckle across her cheek lightly. "Good?"

"Mmmm." Her eyes opened a crack and she smiled up at him. "Amazing."

"Good." He kissed her lightly, but then pulled away to the end of the chaise, turning his face away, his head bowed.  Anna's heartbeat was slowly calming, her breathing evening out, but Kristoff breathed as if he'd been running. She fought the delicious lassitude spreading through her and pushed herself up.

"Kristoff? Are _you_ all right?"

He looked up at her, then shut his eyes, a rueful smile touching the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. Don't worry about me—I just need a few minutes." The hair falling over his eyes was damp with sweat, and Anna combed it back from his face with her fingertips. He shivered. "Anna…."

She caught sight of his shoulder, where a vivid bruise was already blooming on his skin. A bruise in the shape of her teeth. Anna winced, touching it lightly. "Sorry," she said, blushing. "About…biting you. I didn't mean to do it so hard."

Kristoff blinked at her, then hastily looked away, glancing down at the mark. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." He closed his eyes again, as if trying to shut out a sudden thought. "I don't mind it," he muttered, his voice husky.

Anna leaned over impulsively and kissed his shoulder, just lightly, but it made him jump and gasp as if she'd goosed him.

" _Anna_."

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. Anxiety flooded her. "I’m sorry, I just—"

He opened his eyes, focusing on her face, and reached out with his left hand to cup her chin gently. "It's okay," he said. "It's fine. You didn't do anything wrong, it's just….." He took a ragged breath, his eyes flickering over her before he squeezed them shut once more. "It's just that I need to get myself together before we get caught and…it would be easier if you didn't touch me."

"Oh. _Oh_. Sorry. I wasn't thinking." She couldn't help it—her gaze traced down from his muscular chest to his stomach, to the hard outline that was astonishingly evident. Heat burned in her cheeks, but there was also a surge of pride in her chest, that _this_ man felt like _that_ , and because of _her_.

"We need to get back," Kristoff muttered, running a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his head. "You've been gone for too long already, they're probably looking for you."

"Elsa knows that I came to talk to you," Anna reminded him. "She knows where I am."

He groaned. "Even worse—any minute someone is going to come and check to make sure…."

"What?"

"Well…to make sure that we haven't been doing exactly what we've been doing."

Anna laughed. "Elsa got a good look at my face before I came up here," she said. "They're more likely to be worried that I've murdered you than that we've…um…."

He chuckled. "Either way, we need to get you out of here." He moved to stand up but Anna put a hand on his arm. She looked, blushing even more, at the shape of his erection, which hadn't lessened at all.

"What about you? I mean—I know you said it doesn't _hurt_ exactly but it definitely looks _uncomfortable_. And…it just doesn't seem fair."

"It's okay, Anna. This time was for you. If it's still a…problem…I'll take care of it."

"Can't you do that now? Or would it take too long?"

He blushed darkly, all the way down to his chest, and let out a wheezing laugh. "With you sitting there, looking like that? It wouldn't take any time at all. But it…makes a mess."

"How much of a mess?" she asked.

"What?"

"How much of a mess? Because I have three or four handkerchiefs, somewhere, I always have to have spares in case of accidents, so…and I just…I…" She looked down. "I'd like to see," she whispered. "I won't do anything, if you don't want, but I want to see you. Please?"

"Okay," he said, his voice rough. He cleared his throat. "That would…that would work." His cheeks were still red and Anna couldn't help leaning over to kiss his cheekbone quickly before she bent to poke at the heap of clothes on the floor, searching for a pocket. She found it and dug out a square of linen. When she turned back she found that Kristoff was looking at her, his eyes no longer shying away but sliding over her slowly. The scrutiny made her blush, her arms wrapped about her body self consciously. She had been too distracted earlier to think about it, and he hadn't been _studying_ her so closely.

Kristoff reached out to push her arms down gently. "Anna," he said. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful." She bit her lip, and he leaned forward to kiss her lightly, though he didn't touch her anywhere else except for his fingers brushing hers as he took the handkerchief.

Looking away from her again, he unfastened his trousers with shaking fingers, sighing with relief. Anna's breath caught, her eyes widening as she studied him. Kristoff didn't give her time to stare, though, closing his right fist around himself quickly. His fingers looked slick, and Anna realized suddenly that they were still wet from _her_. The thought made her feel hot all over, as if she were standing bare under the summer sun. His eyes went back to her, stroking over her in a way that was almost physical—it certainly made her skin flush and tingle.

He had been right—it didn't take long for him to rock up against his hand, groaning harshly between his teeth, her name broken syllables between his lips, his free hand hastily curling the handkerchief over the tip to contain his release. Anna was sorry to have her view obscured, but it made her look up at his face, at the way his jaw clenched, his brow wrinkling only to smooth out again as he sighed, head falling back and the tension in his shoulders relaxing. He looked…Anna didn't know how to describe how he looked, except that she wanted to see him look that way again. She wanted to see it with him above her, to see it while she felt him buried inside her. It made her blush just to think it—when had her thoughts gotten so very articulate and detailed about these things?—but she reminded herself of what he'd said before. _Another time_. There would be another time.

After a long moment Kristoff took a deep breath and carefully pulled the handkerchief away, rolling it up in the second handkerchief that Anna handed him and then hastily refastening his trousers. "We need…we need to get you dressed," he muttered.

Anna caught his shoulder for a moment and kissed his jaw, rough with stubble. "You looked…amazing," she whispered. He turned toward her, kissing her deeply, but gently. The fingers of his left hand stroked the underside of her chin lightly before he turned away, searching the floor for his discarded shirt. She followed suit, slipping back into her underclothes, wrestling briefly with her corset. It felt stiff and strange compared to the warm looseness that still permeated her body. Her shirt had slid under a chair, clear across the room, which made her smile as she fished it out and pulled it over her head.

She fumbled one-handed on the cuff of her sleeve, until gentle fingers nudged hers away.

"Let me." Kristoff fastened the tiny buttons carefully at each wrist, then stood in front of her to do up her collar. He handled the small hooks with the same focus and precision that she’d so often seen him apply to the care of his sleigh, his gear, except that when his fingers brushed against her they weren’t brisk and workmanlike. They moved slowly, and were indescribably gentle.

A warm, intimate silence bloomed between them as he helped her dress, steadying her when she stepped into her petticoat and skirt, bending to draw them up over her hips and fasten the waistbands, smoothing down her blouse to ensure that it was tucked neatly in, holding her bodice to let her slip her arms into it and then closing up the hooks for her. Anna stayed still and let him. It seemed ridiculous, after all that they had just done, that it should feel so intensely intimate to put clothes back _on_ , but somehow it was. Kristoff combed his fingers through her loose hair, easing out the snarls and plucking out the last of her useless hairpins until it fell in smooth red waves on her shoulders. It made her shiver, and, of all things, blush once again. He stroked a hand down her back as if to smooth out a wrinkle, and let his palm rest warm against her waist.

"Anna…" She looked up into his face, into brown eyes that were filled with a raw tenderness that made her knees go weak. He lifted his other hand to touch her cheek hesitantly. "I love you, Anna. I don’t have anything to offer, except that I love you."

She flung herself against him, so that he had to wrap both his arms around her to steady her and keep them both upright. Anna put her own arms around his waist, clinging to him and burying her face in his shirt to hide the tears in her eyes. "That’s all I want. Just this—just you, loving me."

"It’s all I have to give you."

"It’s the only thing I need."

"Anna…" Kristoff stroked her back softly. "I need you to be sure."

Her arms tightened around him. "I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. I want you."

He bowed his head to kiss her hair. "Then I’m yours."

**Author's Note:**

> I did the thing. I wrote a smutty fic. It was very hard work and I spent a lot of time blushing, and I had a lot of nerves about posting it. I welcome constructive criticism! but please be gentle ;)


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